Mihir Bose and Fatima Whitbread discuss whether the Olympics has become too commercial. Photograph: Linda Nylind for the Guardian

It's six months until the Olympics, but should we be celebrating? With a series of negative news stories this week, sports journalist Mihir Bose, who has just written a book on the demise of the sporting spirit, tries out his theory on Olympic legend Fatima Whitbread. Oliver Laughland listens in.

Mihir Bose: My journey on this subject began when I was in Calcutta. I saw premiership football being shown endlessly on TV, and it struck me that here was this product from England that had reached out to another world and taken it over. I wanted to look at why sport is reaching out to people in a way nothing else can. I believe sport is more powerful than anything else. It struck me that the origins of sport are very different from politics or entertainment; it is about the "spirit" of the game, about helping and improving people. I think those origins have been devalued, it is losing its soul. Events such as the Olympics are a commercial enterprise.

Fatima Whitbread: On a personal level, sport was my saviour. It helped me and it still helps a lot of young people. Having spent the first 14 years of my life in children's homes, I was too emotionally disturbed to do well academically. Sport gave me the opportunity of working with others on an equal playing field, and a chance to realise my dreams. Does sport still embrace the idealism of the Olympics? I'm not convinced with the way it [London 2012] has been handled.

MB: Football is a multibillion pound industry where a player, Carlos Tevez, can afford to lose thousands of pounds in a way ordinary people cannot. When I grew up with football and cricket, we would have a link with the players. Stanley Matthews took the same bus as the supporters. Now, David Beckham is someone you literally have no connection with. In football – when my team wins, I feel a sense of fulfilment, and therefore want to feel close to the player, [to feel] that he's someone who relates to me. Players are no longer relating to the sport they play, and the people who run sport are not being honest with consumers.

FW: Sometimes I ask myself, is any one sportsman or woman, regardless of discipline, worth that kind of money? I don't think so. It's quite gross.

MB: This is where the problems of sport have arisen. Sport has been put forward as this business that can not only satisfy your emotional needs, and the needs of the populace, but something you can also make money out of. It was never intended for that purpose. It's even true of your discipline, track and field.

FW: I don't know if that was the case in my day. Back then you were proud to represent your country – the patriotism was there, to hear the national anthem, standing on the rostrum in the No 1 position, wearing your tracksuit.

MB: Over the past week, we have had a situation with Olympic tickets where expectant parents have been told their babies can't accompany them to an event, and we have had a company, associated with the Bhopal tragedy, putting the Olympic wrap around the stadium, which has led to resignations. That calls into question, does it not, this idea of high idealism?

FW: I'm not disagreeing. I've got my perspective on how I see the games too. Commercially, we have companies that have got 50% of the tickets to some events. But as a former athlete, and someone who wants to see people do well, having a legacy in place that gets people to continue to realise their dreams is important. Having the games is also a tremendous boost to morale for people.

MB: But one of the reasons given to us by the organisers for commercial involvement is that we have to do this to make sure the games are right for the athletes. That is your fraternity, no?

FW: I wish it were, but I'm on the outside. I have not been invited into the inner circle, despite wanting to be there in an ambassadorial role.

MB: Organisers and authorities don't make it clear that when athletes win a medal, although you don't win a cheque, you are winning a lot of income. If you are Usain Bolt winning the 100 metres, you are going to become a millionaire. So that relationship between money and winning is not being made clear to the public.

Oliver Laughland: Do you think modern athletes are still motivated primarily by competitive spirit?

FW: Each individual is different, but why can't they earn money? It's a hard, tough world and if you give 100% to what you are doing, in whatever sphere, you would expect to be paid for it. It is no different in terms of sport. If they want to compete at the highest level, with the amount of work that goes in – then they should be rewarded for that.

MB: You are in a very good position to examine it, because when you started, commercialism had only just started. I trace the turning point to the mid-80s, when suddenly people realised that by associating sportsmen with selling shoes you could sell a lot more product than you would without one. I was wondering, did athletes of your generation feel that you were being deprived of money?

FW: It wasn't there, so no, we didn't. The primary motivation was not money, it was winning and representing your country. It was a strain on our families back then, as it was a big financial outlay to help your young ones to do well. It was 12 years before I won my first major title – 12 years in anyone's career is a long time, so not getting paid was tough. Now, when you look at Usain Bolt, he is the fastest man on earth, but, compared to some of the footballers, he's not paid an awful lot. He's got the rest of his life to lead. Sport is very short-lived.

MB: When you were there, the whole communist bloc was still around, and you were aware that the bloc, particularly the east Germans, were using sport to promote the state, and maybe dosing their athletes with drugs. Did you feel a sense of being up against something you couldn't compete with?

FW: We had random testing, but it was always difficult because you couldn't get in behind the iron curtain, so there were a lot of athletes where you wouldn't know what the system was. Sometimes you didn't know if you were competing against a regime or an athlete. The "medical laboratories", as they said. When I look back, they would be taken away from their families at a very early age, the younger ones, they never had love and happiness growing up in their early years. It was all about an institute, and so their whole lives were geared to winning and succeeding. Anything they earned was taken away anyway and given to the state. They got little in return for the efforts they put in. I always felt more for the person rather than the system; while I disagreed with the system, I was still competing against an equal human being.

• Fatima Whitbread's autobiography will be published by Virgin Books in July 2012. The Spirit of the Game by Mihir Bose is published by Constable, price £18.99; to order a copy for £15.19 with free UK p&p, go to theguardian.com/bookshop or call 0330 333 6846.